


Double Shot of Love

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, CrissColfer AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Panic Attacks, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6805894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>alittledizzy prompted: Coffee shop AU where Chris is a stressed out student who wants to drop out and Darren is the weird, hyper barista who tells him it's okay if he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Shot of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Mandy!

The first time Chris spills coffee on himself, he tries to pass it off as just him being his typical clumsy self.  It’s sort of embarrassing that it happens mere seconds after the cute barista passes him his cup and that he manages to ruin a perfectly good white shirt in the process, but that’s not the worst of it. The reality is that the spill happens because Chris is so over-caffeinated he’s practically _vibrating_ and his hands won’t stop shaking due to what he fears is the beginning of a panic attack. It’s been a rough morning at the end of a rough week that is topping off one incredibly tough semester. Chris swears he’d had plenty of valid reasons for wanting a degree in publishing before he tries his hand at becoming an author, but it’s hard to remember them now when he feels like all he’s cut out to do is fail.

“Shit - sorry, man. Did I overfill the cup again? I’m always doing that,” the cute barista babbles apologetically as he watches Chris inspect the damage to his now damp shirt.

Chris glances up, cheeks flushing at the warm, hazel eyes that meet his. His gaze dances down to the name tag on the apron which reads Darren. It’s a good name, somehow seeming to fit the riot of dark curls and several days worth of stubble that goes along with the easy grin Chris has become familiar with over the past two weeks. He’s practically moved in to the corner booth of the out of the way coffee shop several blocks off campus, blessedly calm and quiet even during finals week. Today marks the first time he’s actually _spoken_ to the cute barista, though. It’s also the first time Chris humiliated himself in front of Darren. _First time for everything_ , he thinks darkly.

“No no, I’m just being clumsy... as usual,” Chris sighs. He tries to rub at the spreading stain on his shirt with his fingers, but it’s hopeless. “Do you have any...” Chris trails off, mind going blank at the worst possible moment, unable to provide him with one simple word: napkins. He suspects it probably has something to do with the mere two hours of sleep he got last night.

If Darren thinks his sudden tongue-tied state is odd, he doesn’t let on. Instead he just grabs a clean tea towel from underneath the espresso bar, wets it at the sink, and shoves Chris’s hands out of the way to begin scrubbing at the stain on the chest of Chris’s shirt.

“Oh... um, thanks?” Chris manages, scarcely breathing while Darren fists his shirt in one hand and tugs him closer. He mentally thanks the universe that he hadn’t even managed a sip of his coffee before the spill happened, so he doesn’t have to worry about having coffee breath.

“Least I can do,” Darren chirps. “I could probably do a better job of getting the stain out if you wanted to take your shirt off, though.”

Chris giggles. “Do you ask all your customers to remove their shirts in the middle of the coffee shop?”

“Nah, only the cute ones,” Darren replies with a wink.

Chris gives up on hiding his blush. He’s definitely flattered, but he’s already so overwhelmed with school that Darren’s attention is just one more thing he doesn’t feel prepared to handle today. That panic attack he’s been trying to deny is happening feels more inevitable by the moment. At this rate, Chris isn’t sure if he’ll even survive the day, though at least that would get him out of his Calculus and Biology finals.

“I think I might just try my hand at scrubbing my shirt in the bathroom sink,” Chris replies belatedly. “But thanks for the help, I think you got the worst of it out.”

It’s quite possible Chris is just hallucinating from sleep deprivation and too much caffeine, but he swears Darren looks just the tiniest bit disappointed that Chris isn’t going to strip off his shirt in the middle of the cafe. Darren reluctantly releases his grip on Chris’s shirt, smoothing out the creases in the fabric with the palms of his hands. Chris tries and fails to suppress a shiver at the warmth of Darren’s touch in contrast to the blasting air conditioning in the coffee shop.

Chris feels awkward not saying anything, so he ends up asking, “Uh, which way is the bathroom again?” It’s a ridiculous question since Chris has used the restroom here many times before, though hopefully Darren doesn’t know that.

“Down the hall, right behind you,” Darren replies with that same easy grin, inclining his head in the direction Chris should go.

“Great,” Chris mumbles. He starts to slink off, cheeks flaming, when Darren calls out to him.

“Hey, forgetting something?” he yells, holding up the cup of coffee Chris has inadvertently left behind.

_Crap_. “Whoops, sorry about that...”

“It’s fine. You haven’t had your coffee yet this morning. Totally understandable,” Darren says sympathetically. Chris reaches for the cup, but Darren bats his hand away. “Where are you sitting? I’ll deliver the coffee and you can worry about your shirt, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Chris asks guiltily, wondering if he’s keeping Darren from his other barista duties. He glances at the empty counter and sad tip jar with a single crumpled dollar bill in it and decides that Darren probably doesn’t have anything better to do, at least at the moment.

“Positive. After all, us klutzes have to stick together, right?” Darren punctuates the statement with another wide grin and wink.

Chris has been too busy with writing and studying lately to get out much, but even he has enough experience to be pretty sure he’s being flirted with now. And somehow, simply acknowledging that fact, even if only in his own mind, triggers the full-fledged panic attack he’s been fighting off all morning.

“My seat’s over there,” Chris blurts out and points to the corner booth. Then, he shoves his shaking hands into his jean pockets and takes off for the bathroom without so much as backward glance at Darren.

Chris locks the door to the single stall bathroom behind him and sinks to the floor, hyperventilating and succumbing to panicky tears, mentally repeating the same litany of thoughts: _I can’t do this, I don’t want to be here, I’m a failure, there’s no point_.

* * *

By the time Chris manages to get himself under control again, at least fifteen or twenty minutes have passed and he’s nervous for a whole new reason. He can’t be positive that Darren’s noticed his absence, but if the coffee shop is as dead as it was when Chris placed his coffee order, it would be pretty conspicuous. Nothing like an early morning panic attack to kill any hope of burgeoning romance.

Still, unless Chris wants to move into the bathroom full-time, he has to come out eventually. The longer he stays in here, the more awkward it will get. He’s pretty sure Darren is already wondering if he had a deeply unsexy attack of irritable bowel syndrome or something equally humiliating.

Chris splashes some cold water on his face to erase the earlier tear tracks and puffiness around his eyes. He blots the excess water from his face, takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and unlocks the door. _Confidence._

Chris keeps his eyes on his feet as he walks back to his spot, praying he’s magically managed to go unnoticed. He slides into his booth with a quiet sigh of relief. He sees his cup of coffee waiting for him and picks up the ceramic mug gratefully. He winces as he takes a gulp, since his soy latte has gone cold while he was trying to talk himself down from his panic attack in the bathroom.

Chris decides that lukewarm coffee is still better than no coffee at all, however, and takes another tentative sip while he reaches into his messenger bag for his binder full of notes. His dreaded Biology final is at 3 pm today and it’s time to cram like he’s never crammed before, even though his head already feels so overstuffed with information he fears it might explode.

Chris’s eyes begin to prickle with unshed tears again as he stares down at a diagram of cell osmosis, the words blurring together. None of it makes any sense to him and try as he might, Chris can’t seem to force himself to memorize something that seems utterly pointless to his career goals and dreams for the future. He wants to be a writer, not a biologist or mathematician.

Chris gets the idea of the core curriculum in the abstract, especially for college students who want a broad base of knowledge or are undecided on their future career. Maybe sampling math and science courses is useful to those students, who haven’t known what they want to do for a living since they were six years old like Chris. It’s something he’s never once wavered on; Chris is going to be a published author, come hell or high water. In fact, it’s writing that he’d much rather be doing right now instead of studying for Biology. Finals week cramming has definitely cut into his writing time and Chris is more than a little bitter about that.

Chris is startled from his increasingly frustrated thoughts by the sudden appearance of Darren sliding into the booth across from him. He’s so jumpy and over-caffeinated that he drops his highlighter to the table with a muted clatter.

Darren holds one hand in front of his face in mock fear. “Don’t shoot, I come bearing gifts of fresh coffee,” he jokes.

“Haha, very funny,” Chris manages before his eyes meet the large mug in Darren’s left hand. “Ooh wait, you weren’t kidding.”

“I would never kid about coffee, Chris,” Darren promises. “It’s in the barista’s oath.” He passes the warm mug over to him very carefully. “I even tried not to overfill it this time.”

“My shirt thanks you in advance,” Chris chuckles. “And I wasn’t aware you knew my name...”

“’Course I do,” Darren says casually. “You ordered a to-go cup from me like, three weeks ago and I wrote your name on it.” He taps his forehead. “Mind like a steel trap right here.”

“Apparently?” Chris smiles.

“I just figured you might want hot, fresh coffee since you were in there a while and your other cup was bound to be cold by now. And I was mostly to blame for that since I overfilled it and it spilled, so... least I can do, right?”

“Um yeah,” Chris blushes, embarrassed about how long he disappeared to the bathroom for. “Kind of a rough morning.”

“Want to talk about it?” Darren asks, his wide, expressive eyes seeming to bore into his.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work,” Chris demurs.

“All you are keeping me from is inventorying the back stock for the twentieth time and organizing the coffee stirrers and sugar substitutes. Dear god, please save me from all that tedium, Chris. You’re my only hope.”

Chris takes a deep breath. “Well, if you insist...”

“I do insist.” Darren nods encouragingly. “I’ll start with something easy. What are you studying?”

“Biology,” Chris answers with a wrinkle of his nose that expresses his obvious distaste for it.

“Lucky you,” Darren sing-songs. “I take it that’s not your fave subject?”

“Not even a little. Neither is the Calculus I have to study after this final.”

Darren leans forward a little, eyes trained intently on Chris. “Okay, so if you hate it so much, why are you doing it?”

Chris laughs nervously. “Um, because that’s how college works? You study a lot of bullshit you don’t care about all so they’ll put your name on a stupid piece of paper called a degree in hopes that it will make finding a job in your desired career a little easier.” He exhales in a rush, realizing belatedly how he must sound. “Sorry. Did that sound bitter?”

“Just a tad,” Darren chuckles. “No worries, though. This booth is a no judgment zone.”

“I just...” Chris trails off, drawing up the courage to express what he’s really thinking. “Do you ever feel like you should just give up?”

Darren frowns. “Like, give up how...?” Before Chris can reply, Darren reaches out and snags one of his shaking hands.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean like give up on _life_ ,” Chris clarifies. Darren looks unmistakably relieved as he nods, encouraging him to continue, though he continues to hold fast to Chris’s hand.

“No, it’s just... I have these dreams, but sometime I feel like the things I’m doing are getting me farther away from my goals instead of closer to what I want, you know?”

Darren squeezes his hand. “Yeah, I know what you mean. What’s your dream?”

Chris looks down at their intertwined hands, trying to summon the courage to say it aloud. He’s scared Darren will laugh him out of the booth when he admits wanting to be a writer.

“Would it help if I admitted my secret shame first? I’m totally the cliched guy who works at a coffee shop to pay the bills while I audition in hopes of hitting it big on Broadway,” Darren tells Chris, looking less embarrassed and more proud. He wishes he could borrow an ounce of Darren’s obvious confidence.

“Well, I’m the cliched person who chose a college in New York so I could fulfill my dream of being a writer, only to find out that all college does is give me panic attacks and cut into my writing time,” Chris blurts out in a rush.

“So, why don’t you quit? Drop out of school, work on writing full-time,” Darren suggests.

“As if it’s that easy?”

Darren shrugs. “Didn’t say it would be easy, but neither is becoming a published author or Broadway star, right? If we wanted easy, we would have done something safe and boring like being an accountant.”

The thought should be terrifying, but somehow, Chris feels lighter than he has in months, just admitting out loud how miserable he is in college. “I’d have to do something for money, though. Writing isn’t paying the bills yet.”

Darren grins. “Well, we’re always hiring. The pay is shit, but the tips... are also shit. So, there’s that?”

“Quite the ringing endorsement.” Chris grins right back at Darren.

“You’d get to work with me. You know, in case that’s extra incentive. Or deterrent.”

“Possibly both,” Chris teases. Darren smooths his thumb across Chris’s knuckles and leans in almost imperceptibly. It’s just the extra bit of courage Chris needs to ask, “Got one important question first, though.”

“Oh?” Darren arches one eyebrow up. “What’s that?”

“How does your boss feel about interoffice romance?”

Darren laughs. “Why, looking to date him? Pretty sure Gunther is taken.”

“Nah, I’ve got my eye on someone else. This cute barista who delivers hot coffee right to my table,” Chris admits, cheeks flushing hot.

“In that case, I’d say he’s very pro-employee romance,” Darren murmurs.

Chris grins and shoves his Biology notes off the table. “Guess I’ll take an application, then. And perhaps your number?”

Darren beams. “Coming right up.”


End file.
